


Brothers In Arms - Might As Well Jump

by starkind



Series: Iron Wings Collection [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Extended Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - War, Crossover Pairings, Fighter Pilots, Gen, IronBat - Freeform, M/M, Military Jargon, young Tony Stark and even younger Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: Nick Fury calls in his best to present them with a challenge neither Tony nor Bruce are familiar with.Usually, the odds of a USAF pilot getting into an F-14 are zero to none.Now it might just be the chance to prove themselves at the sea instead of the desert.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This can be considered another missing scene or 'filler' for the time in between chapter 9 and 10 of the first part of this series. 
> 
> Likely, there are technical inaccuracies galore; the biggest of them all being the fact that USAF pilots don't go messing around the US Navy and vice versa. But I love inaccurate AU settings, this OTP, and crazy fast, dangerous aircraft, so it's more of a self-serving fic. If anyone enjoys nonetheless, I'm glad.
> 
> Oh, and the title is taken from a line by a Van Halen song called 'Jump' (1984) Some of the lyrics will end up being mentioned in this fic for (once more) purely self-serving reasons.

“Captain Stark, Lieutenant Wayne: Report for duty. Colonel Fury's office in five minutes.”

Sergeant Romanov's voice sounded crisp and professional as usual over the speaker. Throwing each other curious glances, Tony and Bruce put the cards aside, current game forgotten, and got up from the bunk. Tony started to fumble and dig around for his dog tags, but Bruce was faster than him. With a nimble move, he snatched them off the bedpost. “Here.” His boyfriend took the chain dangling from his fingers.

“Wonder what this is gonna be. You lost your issued Beretta again?”

Bruce's youthful face twisted with scorn at the affectionate ridicule.

“Shut up, that was one time.”

Fury's office was warm but smelled freshly aired out as they each took a seat across their superior's large desk. “Gentlemen, I have a request of a rather unusual nature.” Tony smirked into Bruce's direction and back over at his superior officer. “And it instantly made you think of us. Perfectly understandable.” While Bruce's eyebrows furrowed, Colonel Fury's face remained expressionless. “Any premature objections, Captain?”

Stark clicked his tongue and put his ankle atop his other knee. “Not at all, Sir. I mean, we are your top of the line flyboys.” Next to him, Tony heard Bruce softly clear his throat. He knew it was a subtle warning and thus fell silent, albeit with a grin. Fury chose to ignore him in favor of thumbing through a file. “Lieutenant Wayne, you have undergone RIO training in the past.” Bruce sat up a bit straighter.

“Yes, Sir.”

Fury nodded and turned another page.  
  
“That's part of the reason I've chosen the two of you for the upcoming task.”

Seeing Tony remained silent, Bruce leaned forward. At the motion, the dog tags around his neck gave a quiet jangle. “To do what exactly, Sir?” Fury left the file open on his desk and leaned back. “Admiral Ross is a former colleague of mine. Off the record, he's also a backstabbing cocksucker who doesn't deserve a single bar on his uniform. Alas, he's called in a favor; a favor I still owe him, as much as it pains me to admit.”

Even more intrigued at that, Tony also leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So what is it that you you need us to do?” Fury narrowed his good eye on him. “I need you to get familiar with an F-14 to assist the VF-102 Diamondbacks squadron preparing for Operation Bright Star. This year, the focus of the exercise is going to be on naval warfare.” The silence lasted two seconds, then Captain Stark gave a whistle.

“Damn, that's a bit like being asked to cheat on your wife with the secretary. Or something. Not that I'd know, but-”

The last words were spoken with haste upon seeing the slight tug of disdain on Bruce's lips from the corner of his eyes. Fury got to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back as he began to pace.

“A few months ago, Ross' squadron exchanged their F-14B's for updated models. They are the first to receive full capability aircrafts, complete with new technical standards for the RIO. His only problem is he is stripped short of capable personnel to give the models their proper test runs, and subsequently, present them at the event.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, over to where his two young pilots sat returning his gaze.

“I ain't gonna lie, gentlemen, even after the F-14A has been traded for the new and improved B update, it's still a fucking beast that's hard to tame. Moreover, with only 500 feet of runway space on the flight deck, landing is one of the most difficult things a pilot will ever do.” His good eye traveled from an unreadable Wayne to an intrigued-looking Stark.

“Most Navy pilots fail carrier qualifications. Pilots with excellent knowledge and abilities are bound to work the aircraft from the ground.”

Tony hummed. “So they don't get to do the Splash Mountain fun tour?” Nothing on Fury's face moved at his quip. “If you can’t get back aboard the ship, you're not going to fly an F-14. Navy top graduate or not.” Wayne cleared his throat again, louder that time. Both men looked at him.

“Neither Captain Stark nor I have Navy experience.”

Tony clicked his tongue and threw his comrade a glance. “And thank heavens for that.” Fury's eye drilled into him, so Captain Stark was quick to amend. “But fuck, yeah, count us in! Bout time the USAF sends in their best to show those swab jockeys how it's done.” Fury's eyebrow quirked. “Prior to being airborne you will have to undergo a basic but intense training course.” That time, Tony did not even bother to hide his groan.

“I'll reconsider.”

Undeterred, Fury took a seat at his desk again, reaching for the still open file and a pen.

“You are leaving tomorrow, 0800 hours sharp. It goes without saying, Captain, that you better not fuck this up.”

+++

On the way back from Fury's barracks, Tony coerced Bruce into stopping by at their local Bean's coffee shop. Equipped with a flat white for him and an americano for the Gothamite, Tony paused in his stride. Bruce switched the scorching plastic cup from one hand to the other and looked at him.

“What?”

“Why does Fury know about your RIO stunt and I don't?”

“Why would you? That's classified intel.”

“Cause I've been inside you, for starters, and I think it doesn't get any more classified than that?”

Bruce's pale cheeks instantly colored as he hushed his amused boyfriend with an elbow jab.

“Speak up, why don't you. Think the guy up in the radar tower hasn't heard you yet.”

They resumed their walk, taking careful slurps of hot caffeine in between being lost in thought. Eventually, Tony chuckled softly. “We're really gonna do this, eh? Switch the sandbox for the big pool?” Bruce threw him a semi-exasperated glimpse. “You telling Colonel Fury 'Fuck yeah, count us in.' doesn't really leave much room to argue.” Tony put his free palm to his chest, leaving a slightly damp imprint on the camouflage fabric.

“I'm sorry, did I overstep and talk you into this? You're the reason Fury even considered us.”

Bruce's thumb refastened the loose plastic lid on his coffee before meeting his boyfriend's eyes. “You didn't, but I'm not sure if we've bitten off more than we can chew this time.” All winsome, Tony grinned around his own coffee. “A very wise man once said 'You got to roll with the punches and get to what's real.'” Bruce's responding glare was deadpan. “Pretty sure that's a line out of a Van Halen song.” Tony exhaled with a grin.

“Ah, semantics.”

With an eye out for any bystanders, he stepped up closer until he was able to catch a sniff of Bruce's familiar Azzaro Chrome aftershave.

“So yeah, we've got the call, and we're gonna answer it. Steal their thunder and all that jazz. We're that good, babe, I know we are.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIO = Radar Intercept Officer
> 
> sources used for this one:  
> http://www.anft.net/f-14/f14-squadron-vf102.htm  
> https://science.howstuffworks.com/aircraft-carrier4.htm  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Bright_Star


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some military abbreviations in this one; explanations at the end

After a short flight over to the Persian Gulf, they met up with their instructor; a bald man with a mustache by the name of John Harris. He stood waiting for them at the gate once their shuttle arrived on base, rigid as one would assume from a fellow military man. “Captain Stark? First-Lieutenant Wayne?” They nodded and shook his hand before they followed him inside into a room with beige walls and classroom furniture.

Over coffee for Tony and water for Bruce, they were handed a notepad each. Grinning along, Tony drummed both ends of his pencil on his pad in a steady rhythm and threw Bruce a glance that spoke of insubordinate glee at the 'Back to School' vibes. Uncaring about his act, Lieutenant Commander Harris switched on the overhead projector and slipped the first transparency onto it.

“Tomcats are definitely different to land than your usual vipers. There's a lot of lift when fully configured to land, especially with no missiles, rails, or external fuel tanks.” Both Tony and Bruce nodded in understanding; Stark more exasperated than his partner. Harris looked at them as he leaned against the front desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“So, in other words, forget about everything you've learned before. If you wanted to change the rate of an F-14's descent, it needs a power correction, but at the same time, you also have to nudge the nose up or down some to get a quicker response. That's what the DLC is for.”

Without ado, Tony raised a hand.

“Yes, Captain?”

“DLC?”

“Direct Lift Control.”

“Ah.”

Harris was about to continue where he had left off when Tony raised his hand again. “Yeah, no, wait, I gotta know a little more on that one. We don't work with hanky-panky stuff like that.” Bruce cleared his throat and gave an audible exhale of breath, meant as a warning. Tony kept on grinning, unfazed. Lieutenant Commander Harris did not respond to his brazenness other than looming in front of Tony's desk.

“The DLC is a tool all F-14 pilots use to augment power and stick corrections by using the upper wing spoilers of the aircraft.”

Tony's jaw worked. “So engaging it means the spoilers pop up?” Harris nodded. “Some F-14 pilots use DLC for glideslope corrections, to make finer adjustments. The spoilers generate instantaneous lift, without the need for an attitude change.” Tony hummed and propped his chin up on a fist, blinking up at his instructor through dark lashes. When Harris was about to turn around, he raised his hand another time.  
  
“Yes, Captain Stark?”

“Can I leave it inop?”

Harris' jaw worked for the longest time. Eventually, he raised his chin. “It is not uncommon for the DLC to be inop, but not when everything else goes to hell in a handbasket. Once you are behind the controls of an F-14, we shall see what is best for you.” Tony lowered his hand, rascal smile unbroken despite Harris' glower. “Yup, we'll see.” Intent on ignoring him, Harris' eyes flew over to his silent companion.

“Lieutenant Wayne, Colonel Fury told me you've got some RIO experience.”

Bruce gave a crisp nod. "Yes, Sir." Without further ado, Harris put a different transparency on the projector. “What radar modes have you been using as RIO? Any of those?” Bruce scoured the displayed options and was quick to nod. “Usually AWG-9, but without visuals for the pilot. It would take away too much attention from the repeater display.” Their instructor nodded, looking a trifle more pleased than in the beginning.

“Good way of thinking.”

Harris then focused back on the projector and put up a transparency that featured the schematics of an F-14 with a few pointers on several parts of the aircraft. He ignored the immature manner of Captain Stark rolling his eyes at Lieutenant Wayne's exemplary reply, and missed out on the rather crude one-finger-salute Wayne returned his lover at hip-level, hidden from Harris' view.

“The latest F-14B model comes with a brand new PTID. Also, the RIO now is in possession of a controller for the LANTIRN pod which replaces the old TARPS control panel on the lower left-hand console.” He paused and looked at Bruce. “I reckon you are still familiar with that one, Lieutenant?” All technical, Wayne nodded. Harris mimicked him before he pointed his pen at another highlighted feature on the F-14 blueprint.

“Both cockpits now feature GPS displays and added NVG-compatible lighting. Otherwise, you'd be dazzled by looking at your displays.”

At that, Tony started jiggling his left foot and gave a snort. “Wouldn't be the first bird to make us fall it love with its beauty.” Harris' icy glare made it clear he was less than amused with his ongoing antics. “Out of the cockpit, the update features digital electronics architecture which allows easier integration of future weapons, updated radar warning receiver, and associated decoys.” Tony made a cooing sound and leaned back.

“So these babies basically take off and land themselves?”

Harris' mustached lip formed a thin line. “You're about to find out soon enough, Captain. No matter what you do upon landing, keep your eyes on the meatball.” Stark craned his head to throw his copilot an amused look. “Didn't know the Navy was full of gourmets. I gotta see your chow hall.”

In return, Wayne's pointed glare spoke volumes.

Equally exasperated, the instructor pointed at the transparency that showed a series of lights and lenses mounted to a platform. “You'll see different lights depending on the plane's angle of approach. If you're right on target, there's an amber light – the meatball. It'll be in line with a row of green lights. Meatball above green lights means you're coming in too high; meatball below green lights – you're coming in too low.”

Tony clicked his tongue. “Gotcha.” Harris countered Stark's flippant smirk with a glare. “If you're way too low, you'll see red lights.” At that, Tony's grin hovered on the verge of insubordinate. “Not gonna happen. I'm the best.” An unsympathetic snarl escaped their instructor's mouth.

“We'll see about that.”

+++

Two days later, they found themselves on the CVN-68 USS Nimitz, one of the biggest aircraft carriers of the US Navy. To complete the carrier qualifications phase before the big event, Tony and Bruce would get five daytime touch-and-goes, five daytime arrested landings, and a one-night trap landing. The first thing they received on flight deck was a mouthful of jet fuel. Exhaust fumes were omnipresent; overpowering the ocean.

Maybe it was because of Tony's recalcitrance, but Harris had chosen their first flight to be an evening one, giving them just enough daylight to try the touch-and-go procedure before attempting the night trap landing. Unfortunately, Harris had also foregone telling them where to find their designated aircraft, and so the two of them stood and glanced at the hustle and bustle before one of the crew members beckoned them over.

"Gentlemen, please follow me."

Glancing at each other, Tony and Bruce did as they were told. They stepped into the flight deck control room where a handful of men was standing around a miniature replica of the carrier deck, aircraft included. Tony's lips parted in delight. "Wow, a Matchbox carrier. What is this, a special edition?" His quip made one of the men, a short man with glasses and a balding head, give them a once-over before he spoke.

"We call it the ouija board. Also helpful to figure out where your jet is -or will be- parked."

He pointed at a miniature on the starboard side in an area labelled the corral.

"Number 242 is yours. Fueled and ready for take-off."

Shortly after, they walked across the windy deck side by side, out to where their assigned F-14B for the first trial run stood waiting. It featured the trademark snake around the globe logo on its tail. Someone had also seen to remove the previous pilots' names from the hull, leaving the area blank and nondescript. Tony gave a low but audible hum. “How many Gs you think we'll have upon us during the landing?"

Upon his question, Bruce looked at his profile and found his lover frowning at the aircraft. Before their departure, Stark had gone and gotten a clipper haircut back at the base. It made him look several years younger and far more conservative than usual. Bruce followed his line of view.

“Enough to turn us both into bloody pancakes if you mess this up.”

Dark-brown eyes met his, crinkling at the edges.

“Reassuring.”

Wayne gave a thin-lipped smile.

“3G at most I think.”

They shook hands with their plane captain and got briefed about the state of the jet before they did the mandatory pre-flight walkaround. Once done, they mounted the small ladder up into their seats. Tony took an experimental sniff into the oxygen mask dangling from his neck just as the canopy closed. Behind him, he heard the soft clicks as Bruce fastened his harness, and hurried to do the same.

As soon as the canopy had closed above them and the engine came to life with a deafening roar, they checked the internal communication system. “You sure about this, Bats?” Tony's voice sounded steady, but Bruce could hear the lingering doubt. “Little late for a change of heart, Iron.” Stark gave a soft chuckle. “True that.” His harsh breathing filled Bruce's headphones, and despite the palpable tension, Wayne had to smirk.

“Might as well jump.”

Rolling his shoulders, Tony's mouth curved into an impish smile.

“Spoken like a very wise man.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIO: Radar Intercept Officer  
> AWG-9: All-weather multi-mode radar  
> PTID: Programmable Tactical Information Display  
> LANTIRN: Low Altitude Navigation and Targeting InfraRed for Night  
> TARPS: Tactical Airborne Reconnaissance Pod System  
> NVG: Night Vision Goggles


	3. Chapter 3

They started up the engine to power up all of their systems individually and get set. Tony stayed true to his preferred method of working his way from the far left side of the cockpit all the way around to the right. Bruce slipped his oxygen mask on and switched to the 'hot mike mode' on the intercom system. It allowed them to speak to each other hands-free without using the toggle for the switch.

He could hear his lover's breathing over the line, steady and secure, and Bruce tried to match his breathing rhythm. “Aircraft 242 on Cat 1, going for a 74 k shot.” Despite trusting Bruce's calculations blindly, Tony double checked the stats. “Let's go single engine off the Cat. 20 degrees pitch attitude, 14 units AOA max, burner, gear, jettison, RADALT set to 80 feet.” Behind him, Bruce could be heard flipping switches.

“Affirmative.”

Their LSOs were already lined up and waiting for them to go through the motions. Tony decided to slip off his fingerless gloves and stowed them into a small satchel to his right. He gave a thumbs up to a flight deck coordinator, to which they were taxied up and maneuvered into the correct position. After a short series of signs, Tony and Bruce then raised both hands left and right of the canopy and were cleared for takeoff.

“Kickstart my heart, baby.”  
Upon Tony's quiet but still distinctive murmur, Bruce inevitably had to grin behind his visor.  
“I'll tell your viper you've been cheating on her.”

Down in front of their jet, a guy then moved into a crouch, touched the deck with a flashlight and pointed ahead. Tony held the brakes as he ran the engines up to full power and felt the powerful surge vibrate under his feet. As soon as he released them and lit the afterburners, their jet accelerated up to 80 knots in seconds.

The catapult shot pressed them into the seats before there was a dull thump and they soared up into the sky, going from zero to 150 mph in less than two seconds. Once the initial ascent was over and they had reached the standard 325 knots, Tony took the F-14 into a crisp roll to almost 90 degrees of bank. At the instant response from the aircraft, he hummed, pleased. “That ain't so bad.”

They pulled about five Gs in a decelerating turn to downwind before air traffic control comm'd in.

“Diamond 242, get ready for touch and go.”

Confident after the first round of handling the F-14, Tony rolled his shoulders.

“Walk in the park, here we come.”

Bruce remained quiet and started to flip some switches on his instruments. The carrier came back in plain sight, but soon enough, there was an agitated voice over the comm. “Diamond 242, you're coming in too hot! 3000' descending, 840 knots. Too hot! Pull up!” Mumbling unintelligible curses into the mic, Tony did as he was told and pulled the jet up into a sharp ascent. The ground rushed away and disappeared below them.

All the while, Tony swore up a string until they were back up at over 5000 feet. “Less talking and more action.” Bruce's voice was steady; his breathing, however, was audibly elevated and faster than before. Stark gritted his teeth but refrained from giving out a reply, let alone an apology. The air traffic controller was back in their ears, factual as ever, to hook them back into the direction of the ship with a steering vector.

"Diamond 242, checking in for state."

It was Lieutenant Wayne's turn to speak.

"242, state 6.1."

With 6,100 lbs of gas remaining, they were still good to go for a second try. They went into the oval turn at a little more speed than necessary, but Wayne did not bother to correct or interfere with his Captain, and they went into their second approach of the ship without further troubles from the carrier controls. Tony pushed the aircraft nose over and started to descend to the requested 5000 feet platform altitude.

They whooshed past the fast-darkening ocean and lined up until the meatball was flashing green at them. That time, Tony came in at the right velocity and height, and they touched the landing strip before going up in the air again without a hitch. They repeated the same procedure three more times, and after the fourth round, the skies had gone pitch black all around them. The radio rustled as the flight coordinator comm'd in.

“Diamond 242, get ready to drop the hook.”

Adrenaline flooded Tony's body, making him shift inside his seat and gripping the stick tight. “Now let's try and get this turkeybird back to the ground in one piece.” Immediately after, Bruce's voice was steady and reassuring in his ear. “Ready when you are.” Tony exhaled. With his left hand on the throttles and his right hand grabbing the stick, he was unable to brace himself against the deceleration.

His co-pilot must have had anticipated his thoughts for his voice crackled over the comm once more. “Harness locked?” It sounded overtly factual, but Tony knew what his lover was insinuating. “Sure did. Not keen on breaking my nose on the fuckin gunsight.”

“Affirmative.”

Only Tony could hear Bruce's well-hidden, affectionate undertone. It made him smile to himself. “Buckle up tight there, Bats, might get a li'l bumpy.” No response. Tony gripped the stick tighter and forced his jaw to unclench at the same time. To their feet, the vast expanse of black that was the ocean lay quiet, except for a few running lights in the distance which came from some far away cargo ship. 

“Here we go. Gonna make mama proud.”

As soon as the jet hit the deck, Tony pushed the engines to full power to get him back into the air in case the tailhook on his F-14 would not catch any of the arresting wires. They successfully trapped on the first try, leading to a decrease in power from 150 mph to a complete stop in less than 1.5 seconds. Once they had come to a standstill, there was only heavy breathing, then Tony released a triumphant howl.

“Bring it ON, hell yeah!”  
  
A sharp rustle could be heard over the comm.  
  
“Captain Stark, kindly stay focused on the ongoing procedure.”

Still smiling blithely, Tony yanked up his visor to reveal a sweated countenance.

“Just so you know who's got some fuckin' gumption 'round here? It's actually us.”

A heavy intake of breath could be heard rushing through the speakers, muffled as if someone tried to cover the speaker with a hand.

“You know what? I give up at this point.”

Although Tony's grin was cheeky, his tone bordered on halfway honest sympathy.

“Most people do. No hard feelings, Sir.”

A crackle over the line told them Lieutenant Commander Harris had disconnected.

They were pulled out of the landing strip and chained down on the side of the flight deck to make room for the next fighter jet. Tony uncapped the oxygen mask and blew out his cheeks. “Bats?” It sounded tentative. A rustling behind him indicated that Bruce had also flipped up his visor and uncapped the mask. Wayne's labored breathing resounded inside the cabin as he took a mouthful of stale air.

“Still here.”  
A breathy pause.  
“Not bad for a carrier rookie, Iron.”  
  
Tony's heart swelled with the impossible desire to reach over and kiss him.  
  
“Didn't expect anything less, now did you.”

+++

The day of the Exercise Bright Star event came, and the skies were diffuse behind portentous-looking dark clouds. The weather was labeled Case II which meant an overcast layer of clouds. Even worse was that the USS Nimitz had to turn to find the appropriate amount of relative wind safe enough to execute landings on deck. That ultimately was causing all pilots to hold away from the USS Nimitz until further notice.

Bored and anxious at the same time, Tony let the F-14 idle low until its wings almost touched the water Bruce's voice came through the aether. 

“Stop that.” 

He sounded edgy. His boyfriend sighed but pulled back up to the required altitude. “I'm positive that Nimitz stands for Never Imagined Myself In This Zoo.” Whatever Bruce had meant to say gave way to a more or less involuntary chuckle. “You're the worst.” Stark grinned to himself. “No, I'm the best, Bats, which is why we'll be giving them a blast of a show. If we ever get cleared.” As if on cue, another voice rustled in their ears.

“Diamond 242, get ready for your turn. Fly heading 345, radar vectors to CVN-68.”

Relieved at the promise of action, Tony pulled the aircraft up in a steep angle, leaving it to Bruce to take care of the proper vector adjustments, and began their ascent through the cloud layer. 12 miles behind the ship, he gave a small hum of acknowledgment when the blurred outline of the carrier appeared in sight. Heavy raindrops made visual almost impossible, as the sea had picked up and left the ship to pitch from left to right.

"Wonderful."

Leaving it at that, Tony went into the needed stop of descent at 1200 feet above sea level, ten miles from their designated landing strip.

All planes operating for Bright Star had to maintain specific altitude and distance from the ship, to keep a pattern that would ensure to hit their push point and approach the deck on time. Being out in poor weather required avoiding potential collisions while keeping the schedule and avoid unnecessary interference with all other pilots queuing up. Behind him, he could hear and feel Bruce shift and go through some motions.    

"Full instrument approach for Diamond 242. State 6.9."

Bruce's command was met with a sharp rustle from the guy behind the air traffic controls, which made both of the pilots wince at the sharp gust of air too close to the microphone. “Affirmative, Diamond 242. You're on short final for the deck.” Tony grunted out in affirmation but remembered to use proper lingo for their bystanders and spectators. “Roger that. This is Diamond 242, transitioning into a right base for final.”

At a distance of eight miles from the ship, Wayne went through the landing checklist and Stark let the gear, flaps, and arresting hook down.

"Diamond 242, less than 2 minutes. Deck's moving."

In front of them, the readouts showed two of the other planes still airborne; their pilots apparently had miscalculated the rough weather and were forced to go into another approach; one of them apparently with a state of fuel too low whose pilots had to be sent up to get a refuel from a hovering tanker close by. Feeling cold sweat trickle down the small of his back, Tony forced his hammering heart to slow down.

"Roger that." 

They listened to the LSOs verifying their position via radio calls until it was time for them to initiate the landing process. About 20 seconds to touchdown, Tony cleared his throat.

"Bats?"

"Iron?"

"43 all the way."

After the briefest falter in breathing, Bruce exhaled for him to hear.

"Affirmative. And remember Italy."

Behind his visor, Tony smiled. 

"How could I ever forget."

The moment of touchdown was marked with a heavy thud of the landing gear onto the carrier deck. Throttles at full military power, Tony felt the deceleration pull at his shoulder harness straps first, before his head and the rest of his body also jerked forward in his seat at the hard impact, avoiding contact with the top of the glare shield. There was minimal movement as the F-14 rolled backward when the wire reeled them in.

In a split second, Tony held up his hands, palms inward, up for the crew to see everything was alright. Behind him, through the rush of blood in his ears, he could hear Bruce moving and unfastening his harness. "Nice." One single syllable, but to Tony, it felt like being knighted. "Glad you approve." As they got taxied off the landing strip, the comm rustled with the familiar voice of Lieutenant Commander Harris.

“Congratulations, Captain Stark, Lieutenant Wayne. The performance was flawless even if the conditions were not.”

Easing his mask and helmet onto his lap, Tony wiped the sweat running down the side of his face with only the slightest bit of grimacing. “Yup. Funfun. Let's do this again sometime, preferably at night. In shitty weather. With a pitching deck. On bingo fuel. Oh, and if you squids have figured out a way to fit our balls in those tiny cockpits.” A first curled into the fabric on his shoulder as low, telltale voice was close to his ear.

“Zip it. Now.”

 

**~*END*~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RADALT = radar altimeter  
> 43 = 'Love you'  
> \-->taken from the original code 143 used back in the days, which means 'I love you' - source:  
> https://www.dictionary.com/e/slang/143/  
> I.T.A.L.Y.– 'I trust and love you'  
> (I have a thing for secretly sappy jetfighter boyfriends, so sue me ;))
> 
> sources used for this chapter:  
> https://foxtrotalpha.jalopnik.com/how-to-successfully-get-launched-off-a-carrier-at-night-1686205138  
> https://www.thedrive.com/the-war-zone/3559/how-to-land-a-fighter-on-an-aircraft-carrier-on-a-stormy-night  
> https://www.thedrive.com/the-war-zone/9599/a-tomcat-pilots-early-struggles-to-tame-the-mighty-f-14
> 
> inspirational (& amazing) vids:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-bV4AQPVeU  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AgAuO7vvHc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7P3bH0DwNg
> 
> Oh, and 'Jump' by Van Halen (1984) sounds like this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq-potK_7Ts
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
